


Ghosts of the past

by Roe_Pacmanshooter



Series: Branches of Life [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Elliots parents are terrible, Established Relationship, M/M, mild child abuse, two kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roe_Pacmanshooter/pseuds/Roe_Pacmanshooter
Summary: Elliot has been happily married for about 4 years with two children when his parents come knocking after ten years of no contact, wanting him to come back to them and take his place in their law firm...(almost no Stardew content aside from the setting, heavily based in Elliots Established background from 'Finding Life' - takes place between 'Finding Life' and before 'Dangers of Commitment' )
Relationships: Elliott (Stardew Valley)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Branches of Life [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177874
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Elliot walked through the house, cradling his son, humming quietly to get him to go to sleep. It was a beautiful autumn day, sunlight flooding through their house, shining on his sons little head. Elliot smiled blissfully, rocking the kid, slowly walking towards the bedroom. He was tired, of course. These days, he was always tired, their son not sleeping through the night yet, their daughter so incredibly full of energy that there was barely any time for themselves during the day.  
Still, he felt a lightness inside that he’d never thought possible. A joy at the life they had brought into this world together, their kids eyes’ shining brighter than the morning- or any other star.  
He kissed Ephraim’s forehead, still humming, happy. His daughter had finally reached the age were she could actually be left alone for just a few minutes without him having to keep an eye on her at any given minute, playing in her room with building blocks. The writer carried his son upstairs. He kissed him again before laying him down into his crib, carefully, watching him for a moment, waiting if he would wake again. But the kid seemed fast asleep, drooling, almost painfully adorable. Elliot let out a happy sigh, quietly leaving the room, closing the door. He contemplated if he should try to get a cup of coffee before joining his daughter again. Ayleen had thankfully learned not to be too noisy during her brothers nap-time but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t want his attention.

He went to the kitchen, putting on the kettle, getting out the grinder. Preparing fresh coffee was one of the few rituals that he felt kept him sane during these days of sleep deprivation.  
Elliot went through the motions, his mind wandering on randomness for a moment. Robert would probably be back soon. He had left to get groceries, feed the animals, run errands… his usual routine. It had taken some time for them to get settled into one again after Ephraim was born, the additional kid making their work- and home-life a bit more stressful. Still, by now they had found established paths again, Robert taking care of the farm in the morning, Elliot writing in the afternoon, each taking turns in watching the kids, splitting and switching other chores as it fit their schedules.  
He took a sip of coffee, closing his eyes, savoring the moment.

Just six years ago his highest hope had been to become a moderately well known writer, growing old in his cabin as a lonesome artist, free of the constraints of society and the hateful eyes of his parents. Had someone told him how his life would change, how much light would enter his soul…  
He would probably have cried out in despair, convinced he’d never deserve it.  
Elliot sighed quietly, walking to the window, savoring the aroma of the coffee. He gazed over the luscious grounds, smiling. Robert had planted a wide variety of seeds, many of them soon to be ripe, a myriad of colors swaying in the wind…  
He leaned forward a bit, trying to spot the path leading to town, wondering if Robert was on his way back yet, when he spotted a number of people approaching. He furrowed his brows, confused, squinting. Why were there a bunch of suits coming to their-  
He yelped when he recognized his father among the small group, dropping his coffee.

This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening…

He moved back slowly from the door, feeling a potent mixture of anger and fear. He took a breath, picking up his fallen cup, reaching for paper towels to mop up the floor.  
Maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe the shortage of sleep had made him hallucinate a nightmare right into his freaking yard-  
The doorbell rang. He yelped again, giving the door a look like it had personally wronged him.  
What should he do?  
Could he pretend he wasn’t home? Was that an option?

...Why would they come by now anyway? It had been over ten years since he’d left. More than five since they’d last bothered writing to him. Why would they contact him now? In person?!

The doorbell rung again and he remembered that his son was sleeping, possibly waking up from the ruckus right now and suddenly, all fear left him leaving nothing but fury inside. He marched to the door, preparing himself mentally as he did, opening it abruptly, getting right into their faces, growling. “You have no place here. Leave.” He bared his teeth, standing his ground, trying not to show how much it truly and utterly shocked him to actually see them here.

His parents stood right in front of him, surrounded by other suits, having aged about as well as he would have expected rich privileged people to do. At least, his mother had – her skin crisp and well-cared for, wearing a terrible orange dress that looked very expensive and absolutely horrid with her skin-tone. Her expression seemed somewhat neutral.  
His father looked terrible.  
He was clad in a crisp, dark-blue suit, almost exactly the same as he had last seen him in, his posture just as rigid, his jaw set in the same disapproving hateful expression he’d always had. His hair had grown white at the temples. He looked like he had aged thirty years in the past ten. His posture couldn’t gild over the fact that his body seemed a lot more frail, seeming thinner and strangely mangled. The effect of his angry eyes was overshadowed by the bags under the same, waxy skin looking unhealthy.  
The man gave him a calculating look, clearly unfazed by Elliot's words. “Ah. Yes. I’d assume you’d say something like that. Indeed, we shall leave...” An evil smile made its way on his face as he turned to the men beside him. “Take him.”

Elliot froze in shock for about a moment too long, his fathers guards rushing him, feeling like he was trapped in some kind of nightmare, his movements so slow, so unbalanced…. He tried pushing them back, yelping but though he exercised regularly, he had hadn’t practiced brawling in several years and it barely took any time for the guards to grab his arms and shoulders, restraining him. He bared his teeth, struggling. “What do you want?! Why are you here?! I left your hateful home ten years ago! I want nothing to do with you! Nothing!”  
His father rolled his eyes. “We let you roam for a bit because we didn’t have much of a use for you at that time anyway. But now I need you for marketing concerns. So we’re taking you back now.”  
Elliot fought the sickness spreading through him, his heartbeat hammering in his head and chest, blood boiling, realizing there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t call for help and if he made too much noise right now he might call attention to his kids which would make it so much worse. He shook his head. “You can’t… you can’t do this. I won’t keep quiet. People will look for me. I’ll tell anyone who comes into contact with me, I’ll-”  
His mother stepped forward, slapping him. “Stupid boy. You’re father is sick. It is your duty now to take your place in the firm. Stop struggling now. You’ve had your free time, now its time to go.”  
Elliot growled, straining against the guards but it was no use. His parents moved toward the door, the guards fastening their grip, starting to take him away-  
“...Papaah?”

Elliot wheezed, cold ice slicing his insides.  
Ayleen stood at the top of the stairs, trembling. “Papaaah? Whapps happwening?” Elliot looked up at her, terrified, fear going into overdrive, realizing what would happen, before he heard his fathers words: “Oh. You have been busy, I see. A girl! How nice…” his voice was cold. “Grab her too. She’ll be useful.”  
“NO!” Elliot went mad with rage, ripping one arm free, elbowing one of the guards in the face, his voice straining. “RUN AYLEEN!” She looked at him scared, but he kept yelling, swiping his knee up inside the right guys stomach as he did, desperate, movements sluggish, trying to swing around to punch the guy to his left. “CLIMB OUT BACK AND RUN INTO TOWN! RUN!” He felt a strong, dull pain at the back of his head before everything went dark.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Robert was making his way back, carrying the groceries as well as a number of farming supplies in his arms. He enjoyed these little trips to town when he was on his own, able to just walk a few paces and interact with people without being in parent-mode. Of course he loved his kids to bits too, often spending time with them on the playground or in the forest, but there was certainly a distinction in talking to another adult with two kids in a stroller or without them.  
Besides… he loved coming home from town to his loving husband and his beautiful kids. There was a strange sense of domestic peace to it, coming home often feeling like the best part of his day. When he opened the door, greeted by his loving husband, sometimes busy taking care of their kids but always happy to see him…  
Well. Sometimes desperate to see him too, depending of the state the kids were in on that particular day.  
Yet, he still felt like his heart skipped a beat anytime he laid eyes on that beautiful man taking care of their children. Some days it still felt like a miracle to him that Elliot had agreed to marry him, spend their lives together, build a family…

He was walking across the square, mentally going through the steps on what he was going to cook for lunch. He had gotten some haddock and fresh potatoes so maybe-  
He stopped, listening to his environment. For just a moment he thought he’d heard Ayleen calling for him… He looked around, quickening his step. Maybe he had imagined it-

Robert spotted a familiar, small figure running towards him at terrible speed. He blinked, confused.

_Why is she here? Why is she runn-”_

A large man came after her, catching up slowly, his daughter crying out in fear-  
Robert dropped everything, dashing towards them, wild rage fueling his limbs. Everything seemed to be happening so fast, his daughter fearful cries burning themselves into his soul-  
He flexed while running, preparing for the punch before slamming his fist into the gorillas jaw.  
They slammed into each other at full force, his hand feeling like it was breaking, blood and teeth spilling from the mans face. Robert groaned in pain but forced himself not to stop at this moment, slamming his other fist into the mans face without hesitation, this punch feeling a lot less hazardous to his own health. The man wheezed, swaying, Robert swiped his leg up, kneeing him into his solar plexus, finally making the aggressor keel over. The farmer stopped, turning, breathing hard, his mind frazzling at the implications, his hand hurting like hell. His daughter stood a couple meters away, crying, her face a mess of tears. Robert staggered toward her, crouching, embracing her, relief flooding him. 

_Thank god.. Thank god I saw you in time..._ He stroked her with his non-hurting hand, trying to stay calm.

Ayleen had clearly come from the farm. It was the right direction and where else would she have been?  
Which meant that his son… his husband… they were still… they were-  
He felt sick, still cradling his kid, trying to calm her down, kissing her hair. “Its okay, sweety. He can’t hurt you now… You’re safe, Ayleen, you’re safe...” The kid kept trembling in his arms, shaking her head. “...they...they hurt Papah! He made me run outside and the man chased me...” Robert swallowed hard, clenching his teeth, struggling to keep his voice calm. He picked his daughter up, starting to walking across the bus stop towards Abernathy corner quickly. He had to check on the others as quickly as possible but there was no way in hell he would take his daughter back there before he knew it was secure. He kept stroking her.  
“Who hurt him, sweety? What happened?”  
She cried some more, clinging to him. “I hwas playing in mah room and Papah wanted me to be quiet becose it was nap time. I was building an ice cave an I heard Papah yelling an I… I looked and the two men were stuck to his arms an some bad man talked to him and made him sad and den he said he could use me and papah said I should run and he kicked the one guy but the-the-” She started whimpering panicked. They had almost reached Pennys and Sams house. Robert kissed her temple stroking her gently, giving her a reassuring look. “I know its bad, sweety. But I’m sure Papah is gonna be okay. I just need to know what you saw so I know how to help him best.”

His daughter nodded, large tears rolling from her eyes as she tried to speak again: “de man… he...he hit Papah on the head… and h-he...h-he fell down….a-and...and….” she cried harder. “he didn’t move anymore.” Robert couldn’t prevent himself making a choking sound, terror seizing him. He put her down again, hugging her hard, struggling to keep his motions not too abrupt. “It’s...It’s okay, sweety.” He kissed her forehead, looking her in the eye. “You are the most incredible, amazing brave girl for telling me.” he kissed her cheek. “I love you, Ayleen. But I have to leave you with Sam and Penny for a bit now-”  
She cried out again, clinging close. “DADDY! NO! DADDY! I’m so scared! I’m so scared! I don’t want you to… I…. I….”  
Robert pressed her close, tears welling in his eyes. “I know.” He kissed her head again, his voice hoarse. “I know. I promise you I’ll be fine. But I have to check on your Papah and your brother. I have to.” He stood up, kept on holding her hand, ringing the doorbell.

As he ran back a few minutes later, he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, terror fueling his imagination.  
Elliot lying dead on the floor. His son murdered in his crib. Their house burning around them.  
Robert let out a wheezing sob, speeding up even more.  
He reached the house, stopping dead in front of the porch. The door stood open, looking damaged. He staggered into the house, his movements stiff, afraid what he would find.

_...so quiet… oh god… oh god, please… please no..._

He walked inside.

A chair was knocked over. Blood on the floor.

He looked around carefully.

No bodies on the floor so far.

He swayed, walking upstairs.

The bedroom door stood open. The crib was empty.

He became frantic, running through the house, looking in every room, desperation boiling up as it became clearer and clearer that they weren’t here.  
He ran outside, checking the ground. Now that he looked at it, there was a trace in the muddy ground. 

Like someone had been dragged across it.

 _Elliot...ELLIOT!_ He wheezed heavy, following the tracks, leading towards the street, stopping there. Robert sank to the ground.

They were gone.

They were _gone_

He wheezed, trying to calm down, shaking.  
Someone had taken his husband. His son. While he had been out of the house someone had-  
He let out a long cry, shaking in rage and pain, his mind a bleary haze.

_I’m coming for you. No matter what. I’ll get you back._


	2. Chapter 2

Elliot woke in a state of confused panic. Someone was was shaking him roughly and as soon as he jerked awake, he knew exactly where he was. The smell alone was enough to flood him with a wave of nausea. Something vaguely old and sweet and bitter. He couldn't describe the smell of this place, aside from the meaning most strongly associated in his mind.

Hell.

He was in his fathers study, sitting in front of his desk, his father looking at him in pure contempt. His henchpeople standing guard beside Elliot, crowding in on him from either side. The writer felt himself shake in panic, breathing hard, feeling like the ceiling was about to collapse on him, like the walls were crawling in, suffocating him in darkness-  
His mind flashed in painful memories of this place;  
His father yelling at him about his hair  
His mother, crying because he said he didn’t want to be a lawyer  
Sitting alone in his room for what seemed like years and years at a time-

He felt like crying and throwing up at the same time while the images got faster, mixed up with sounds, images of darkness _conjured_ up in between-

-the butler shaving his head while his father berated him-  
_A knife slicing up his arm, slowly boring through his hand..._  
-Mother yelling at him, burning his clothes-  
_His parents hitting him, yelling how worthless he was, over and over..._  
-Father burning his books-

He felt dizzy, unable to concentrate, the darkness making him weak, making him fear so much much, shaking. It had been so long since he had escaped this place yet now he found himself back here – had he never truly escaped at all? Could he ever? Would he always end up being dragged back here, forced to listen to his fathers droning words, caged in their stupid villa with their terrible decór?

“Stop daydreaming.”  
Elliot snapped to attention, made submissive through fear, his fathers tone as threatening as ever. “Now that you’re here, tell me, you have a little bit of money, haven’t you? Couldn’t you have invested it in a proper haircut and clothes for once?!” He didn’t give him time to answer, droning on: “At any rate… we’re going to take care of that. Cards on the table: I’m dying. I probably have a couple of years left but its definitely over soon. That means, your time wasting your days is over. For good. We’re going to pull you through law-school extra-fast so you can at least wield the title of lawyer. You won’t actually ever argue cases, you’ll be at the firm to be seen to make clear that the firm is still in Yates-hands. We’ll be introducing you as new junior director on Monday. You’ve already been enrolled at Stale University’s remote college program. Studies commence after the tailor and barber are done with you.” He picked up a newspaper, apparently done with what he had to say.

Elliot sat in silent horror while his father rattled this down like it was nothing but a shopping list, Elliot being the product he was configuring and then ordering to his wishes. He tasted bile, his jaw hard. He physically worked to open his mouth to form a reply. “I… I won’t.” His voice was quiet and a lot more unsteady than he wanted. He tried to speak louder, more forceful. “You’ll never make me. I’ll get out again. You cannot keep me.”

His father sighed exasperated, putting the newspaper down. “Yes. I can.” He made a gesture to one of the servants nearby and a door opened.  
The writer felt all air pressed from his lungs. He watched in cold horror as a woman in a white coat came in with a stroller.  
_No...Nononono...God no...NO..._ He made a whining sound, realizing that he wasn’t the only one who was trapped in this hell.  
His son lay in the stroller, unconscious, looking pale.

Elliot instinctively tried jumping to his feet, reaching out for his son, but the guards immediately grabbed him again, forcing him back into the chair. “Let go of me!” He clenched his jaw, anxiety still making him shake inside, swirling around with the rage boiling up within his veins, forming a terrible cocktail of bursting emotions. “Don’t you dare harm him! You have no right to keep him here! Let him go! Let him go right now!”

His father looked at him almost bored. He turned to the woman in the white coat, giving her a nod. 

“Lets start with the needles.”

White-hot rage suffused the writer. He rebelled against the men holding him, no longer hearing what anyone said, straining to get out of the grip, yelling incoherently. All he could see was the woman putting the needle to his sons skin, starting to sting him, red droplets coming out of his little arm-  
Suddenly his body felt like it was burning, all muscles collapsing. He felt to the ground, stunned, unable to move, wheezing, his mind in a scrambled daze.  
His father walked into his field of vision, looking down on him with a disapproving look. Like Elliot was a bug who had made its way onto his fathers caviar. “Maybe that will teach you.” His father bend down, grabbing him by the hair, pulling it painfully. “You do what I say or your son gets it! Don’t think I’ll hesitate. You won’t see him unless you cooperate. If you behave, you’ll be allowed to spend time with him. Slowly increased as time goes by. If you misbehave. Well… There are many ways to create interesting scars.” He let go of his hairs, letting him fall to the ground again, standing up, leaving.

Elliot remained on the ground, still stunned. He tried crawling towards his son but the guards moved into his way. The stroller wheeled away and Elliot felt like all light had just left him.

_Robert… please… please be safe… please help me..._

He collapsed in on himself, his last bit of strength leaving him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robert paced in the waiting room of Zuzu cites central police station. He had filed a report with the local authorities the day before, immediately after having discovered the… situation. But the friendly older chief in Grampelton had told him that if he wanted something done _fast_ he should probably rattle the cages with the higher-ups, him barely having the budget to report in even petty crimes.

So here he was. Pacing up and down. Worrying about what would be done, what could be done, too many bad kidnapping stories stuck in his head.

Why would someone kidnap Elliot anyway? It didn’t seem like a random act, them having been taken from their very own home. Had it something to do with Elliot’s growing status as a well-selling author? 

Was it a superficial thing, him having caught some obsessive maniacs eye and they decided they absolutely _had_ to be with him?  
His stomach twisted in revulsion at the thought what someone like that might do to his husband.  
Since there had been no ransom note or anything so far, he was extremely fearful that Elliot had indeed been abducted with goals of sexual exploitation. Them having taken their child could be a simple means of making his husband agree to whatever demands they made.

Or they wanted to abuse the child itself. Sell it out. Ship it out to the highest bidder...  
Robert felt like throwing up, his mind turning and twisting ever-further into these directions, spinning-  
“Mr. Lurr?”

Robert blinked, suppressing the urge to sigh. “It’s Llyr. Like ‘Lear’, but faster, they y more like in ‘lyric’.”  
The officer nodded. “Yes.. apologies. You can come in now...” He led him into a small office that screamed ‘we-are-very-busy-and-don’t-get-the-budget-we-need’  
“Alright, Sir. Let’s start at the beginning… you’re saying your husband and your 11-month-old were abducted?  
“Yes.”  
“When exactly?”  
“Yesterday, between 11:40 and 11:50 in the morning.”  
“That's very precise. How do you know it was then?”

Robert trembled for a moment, sighing. “I was in town when… I heard my daughter scream. I turned and saw her running towards the town, a man chasing after her. I knocked out the man and got my daughter to safety. Since the man clearly belonged to the group who abducted my husband and son, I have to assume that they… they must’ve taken them in that very short time window between me crossing the bus stop and me returning, which would have been at that time.”  
“Ah yes, the man we have in custody right now? He has refused to speak, so far...”  
Robert nodded, clenching his fists. He had tried making the man talk but he had been ironclad and his hand had already been hurt before he started beating him more.

The officer made a few notes before he leaned forward. “Mr. Llyr…. Is it possible your husband was having an affair?”  
Robert clenched his jaw. “I very much doubt it. Even if. Why would he make the effort to leave blood on the floor or take our child like this if he just wanted to get something on the side?” He felt like he was pushing the words through concrete. He had assumed that this question would come, but still… Elliot cheating on him was absolutely unthinkable. With his history in relationships…. No. If he ever truly wanted to be with someone else, they would talk about it, he was certain.

The officer was still scribbling. “So you get to the house and find...what? Describe the scenery.”  
“The door was open and mildly damaged – like it was hit by something heavy. The wood around the hinges had burst a little bit. A chair in the kitchen was knocked over. There was a small pool of blood on the floor, near they door and a few splatters nearby.”  
“Describe the splatters.”  
Robert took a breath, removing himself from the nature of the blood. “It was… spread in a half-circle at the wall. Not much of it. Tiny stripes which I only noted later.”

The man nodded. “What’s your husbands job?”  
“He’s a writer. He’s published a few novels, works with a few newspapers and magazines.”  
“Hm. Think it might have been a fan?”  
Robert shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t get involved in his work too much. He’s told me his fans can be pretty intense but I can’t tell how far that goes.”  
“Whats his pen-name?”  
“B.Y. Elliot.”  
The man blinked. “Tall man with reddish long hair?”  
Robert nodded, suddenly feeling even more uneasy.  
The officer looked a little nonplussed, scratching his cheek. “Oh. You’re...married to… Oh.” He seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat. “I mean… Yeah. Uhm… My wife’s a fan so I guess I heard about him. Well, I’ve heard from her that some of these fans can be a bit extreme sometimes, so we’ll look into that. Uh.” He took a breath, apparently trying to settle back into a more professional persona. “Does he have any enemies?

Robert thought about it a moment. “Not really. Maybe his parents? But I don’t know if one could consider them his enemies. They haven’t had any contact in about 5 years.”  
“And their relationship was very negative?”  
Robert took a breath. “They… wanted him to be a lawyer in their law-firm. He didn’t. They were at odds about everything and I believe he left home by himself as soon as he was 18.”  
“Do you know the name of the law-firm or the last names of his parents?”  
“I… don’t know anything about the firm. But his last name used to be Bronwyn-Yates.”  
The officer nodded, underlining something in his notes. “Alright, I think that's all we need. We’re gonna start looking into it.”  
Robert gave him an impatient look. “So… what does that mean? Who’s in charge of the investigation?! What steps are you going to take?!”  
The officer stayed calm. “Its gonna take a little bit until we get everything assigned. I’ll run this by the head of the department and he’ll assign it. In the meantime we’ll check traffic cams in the area around Pelican town to see if we can get a match. Its a low-traffic area so that should make our job a little bit easier. You can wait in the waiting areas for developments if you want, but I can’t tell you how long you’re gonna have to wait. Even with that time-frame, getting something of the traffic cams is probably gonna be at least two hours.”  
Robert nodded, tense. “I’ll wait then.”  
The officer nodded. “Alright. But please… don’t interrupt our work. I will tell you when we know something. We understand that this is very difficult for you, but we need to concentrate if we’re gonna make any progress, alright?”  
Robert nodded again. “Yes. I understand.”

He went to the waiting area and hung up his jacket, sitting down, putting his head in his hands.  
There was nothing he could do, but wait.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elliot couldn’t really stop crying.

He didn’t make any noise while they wrangled him to the barber. The man cut off his hair in large strands. When he noted what a shame it was, how well-cared-for the hair clearly was, he couldn’t help choking a little, heavy tears flowing from his eyes.  
His hair had always been the main way for him to change his features. Make his face look differently.  
Make him look less like his father.

He kept crying silently while they measured him for suits, the harsh cold in his neck reminding him at every moment that he was trapped. That he had to accept whatever they did to him. That he had to follow their every order.  
He kept thinking of his son.  
The boy had looked so pale in the stroller. He hadn’t really moved during the whole ordeal. Hadn’t flinched when the woman had put the needle in his arm. Hadn’t stirred when Elliot had started yelling for them to stop or when he’d fallen to the ground after they’d tasered him. Though he was glad that the boy wouldn’t remember that terrible moment, his continued non-response also chilled him to the core. Them having drugged the boy so he wouldn’t be too noisy was the least bad possibility at this point.  
Because he could also have been dead.  
He didn’t dare think about the possibility too much because he knew it would tear him apart. If he found that his son had died because he hadn’t been able to protect him…  
His gaze drifted to a pair of large scissors on a nearby table, briefly imagining to cut his own throat.  
No.  
He couldn’t do that to Robert.  
Worse enough what he would be going through right now.

They led him to the study, his mind stuck on what Robert would have found when he had gotten home.  
He assumed that they hit him over the head back then, because he had a small, aching wound on his skull which he didn’t remember getting. Had there been blood in the house?  
He trembled, imagining the scenery. Ayleen would have gotten away – maybe he had run into her first? Then he’d come home, alone… door open, blood on the floor. An empty crib.  
His chest clenched, his heart aching.  


Robert was strong. He’d be a good father to Ayleen, even by himself. Fresh tears spilled from his eyes on the last thought, desperation welling up again.  


He hadn’t even been here a day. He knew he had to be patient, he knew he had to be strong for his son, to play along until they could get out.  


But the walls kept crowding in on him. 

Everything seemed dark and bleary and he couldn’t help the overbearing fear, that he would never get out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case this isn't clear - Elliot was not phyisically abused by his parents (unless you want to count the hair-cutting and clothes/book-burning under that). Those parts are conjured up by his mind as a reaction to trauma...


End file.
